


Conversation

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-23
Updated: 1999-02-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Frannie has a revealing conversation with her brother.





	Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Conversation  
  
SPOILERS: for "Heaven and Earth" and "The Deal."  
But I'm sure I don't  
tell you anything you didn't already know.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ray Vecchio, Francesca Vecchio, Benton Frasier, and all  
things Due South related belong to Alliance Productions, not to me.   
By  
writing this story, I am violating their copyright. However,  
I can't  
say that this particularly bothers me.  
  
ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: All of the spoken dialogue in this story was taken  
directly from the episode "Heaven and Earth." That dialogue  
belongs to  
whoever wrote the episode; it does not belong to me.  
  
WARNING: This is a slash story. If the idea of two men in love makes  
you uncomfortable, then I suggest you hit the delete key now. **Rating:  
PG-13**  
  
SUMMARY: Frannie has a revealing conversation with her brother.  
  
ARCHIVING INFO: May be archived at the main Due South Fanfiction  
Archive, and at Belynda's All-Fandom Slash Archive. Anyone else, please  
ask first.  
  
FEED ME, SEYMOUR: All feedback, from praise to constructive criticism,  
will be welcomed with little cries of joy at.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello, everyone! I'm relatively new to Due South  
fandom, and this is my very first Due South story (although I have  
written others, mostly ST: VOY and Sentinel; you can find them at  
http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/4824). I hope you enjoy  
it!  
  
Many thanks to Hannie for beta reading this sucker. Now, on to the  
story!  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
"Conversation"  
by Aimee  
  
"Stay away from him, okay?"  
  
I can't believe my ears. "Ex-*cuse* me?"  
  
"Look, Frannie, you heard what I said. Just stay away from  
him, okay?"  
  
"Ray!"  
  
"Frannie, you are in over your head."  
  
Up until now, I haven't said much -- I've been too shocked.   
This was  
not a conversation I ever thought I'd be having with my  
brother. It was  
so unexpected that, for a moment, it almost sounded  
like he was speaking  
in a foreign language; I just couldn't understand,  
couldn't wrap my mind  
around what he was saying. But it's sunk  
in now.  
  
And I'm getting *angry*. "Meaning?" I asked in low,  
furious tones.  
  
What you say next defuses my anger just as neatly as a SWAT team  
defuses a bomb. "Meaning guys like him don't marry girls like  
you.  
That's fairy tale. And girls like you get hurt and guys like  
him don't  
even know it, and that's life."  
  
Well, *shit*, Ray. Pardon my french.  
  
You have no idea how pathetic you sound.  
  
Guys like him don't marry girls like me? Ray, Ray, my poor,  
sweet  
brother -- what makes you think I *want* to get married again?  
You know  
how disastrous my first marriage was. You were there when  
my divorce  
came through; you know I swore never to do that again.  
It's not  
*marriage* that I want from Ben.  
  
But it's what you want, isn't it.  
  
You know he's gay, don't you. That's what you meant by "guys  
like  
him." I only just figured it out, otherwise I wouldn't  
have embarrassed  
myself by throwing myself so obviously and publicly  
at him, but you knew  
it all along, didn't you.  
  
'Cause you are too.  
  
I want to tell you. I want to tell you that I know, and that  
it's  
okay, that you don't have to hide it so desperately. Then  
I start to  
wonder if you even know.  
  
I remember when we were kids. When we were really small, you  
hadn't  
learned that being gay was wrong. You did even know what  
"gay" *was*  
yet. So your behavior was a lot less . .  
. guarded. And even when we  
got older -- well, you hadn't yet perfected  
that mask you wear; there  
were still cracks in the facade of your  
machismo.  
  
I remember you and Marco Metroni -- *before* Danny Zuko used  
his face  
as a basketball court, I mean. And I remember what happened  
when Dad  
caught the two of you necking on the couch, although I  
don't want to.  
He went absolutely ballistic. He was always a little  
too free with the  
corporal punishment, if you know what I mean,  
but I've never seen him  
like that. Never, not before or since.  
He just went crazy. And,  
afterwards, when you got out of the hospital  
\-- well, that's when he  
started with the "real man" lectures.  
A real man doesn't cry. A real  
man can take care of himself. Real  
men don't hug, or worry about  
anybody but themselves. A real man  
this, a real man that, blah blah  
blah. Looking back on it now,  
I can see that those talks were basically  
just a long, slow process  
of brainwashing.  
  
You never let yourself look at another man again. You didn't  
dare.  
  
Until Fraser.  
  
I've seen the way you look at him when you think nobody's watching  
you.  
I see heat in your eyes. I see passion. I see lust.  
  
I see love.  
  
This whole big speech you just gave me, this "stay away  
from him"  
speech? This was not your typical overprotective  
older brother lecture.  
I know that one by heart; I've heard it  
a million times. This was  
different.  
  
This was jealousy, pure and simple.  
  
Ray. You might be able you fool yourself, but you can't fool  
me.  
  
I want to tell you all of this. But I don't. You're not ready  
to  
hear  
it. I bet you'd panic and embrace your denial even more fiercely than  
you do now, and you'd probably end up doing something really stupid,  
like running away from Fraser for good. So I don't mention any  
of this.  
  
But I can't keep quiet either. It's not in my nature. Suddenly,  
I  
hear myself saying, "You know what your problem is, Ray?"  
without  
meaning to.  
  
"No, Frannie, why don't you tell me."  
  
All right. All right. I will. "Yeah, I'll tell you."  
I'll say it  
as  
clearly as I can. I hope you can hear it. "Your problem is that  
you're  
so afraid to dream. You are *so* afraid to reach out for  
something that  
you *really* want." It's not wrong, Ray. It's  
*not* wrong. You never  
listened to Dad about anything else, why  
listen to him on this? Follow  
your heart instead. It's much better  
than his was any day.  
  
You're still not getting it. Time to try a little harder. I'm  
good  
at  
that. "You know what happens to people like you? They get old,  
they  
get alone, and they die. And they never know." My throat  
chokes up;  
I'm on the verge of tears. And I suddenly realize that  
I've been  
talking about myself just as much as I've been talking  
about you. Dying  
alone, without ever really having *lived* -- that's  
my worst nightmare,  
my secret fear. "Well, that's not me!"  
Please, God, don't let that be  
me.  
  
That's it. I'm done. You are never going to realize that you're  
in  
love with Fraser, and I'm tired of trying to make you see it.  
If you  
won't reach out and take what you so obviously want, why  
shouldn't I  
grab it instead? Don't I deserve some happiness, too?  
  
Sometimes I get so lonely I want to scream.  
  
You grab me when I try to leave. "Did you sleep with him?"  
Jealousy  
fairly drips from your voice.  
  
For God's sake, Ray! Do you ever listen to yourself? Sometimes  
I  
feel  
like I'm banging my head against a brick wall. "Why?" I ask.  
"Why?  
Would it matter to you if I did?"  
  
"Yes, it would! You're my sister." I look into your  
eyes while you  
say this, and I'm surprised to find that you mean  
it. You really mean  
it. You're not just jealous because you want  
Fraser for yourself;  
you're also worried that I'll get hurt. You're  
worried about me.  
  
All right. You win. I'll back off for now. But you better not  
take  
too long to go after him for yourself, because I'm not going  
to quit.  
This may be a cease fire, but it's not the end of the  
war.  
  
"I care about you," you say, after a long pause.  
  
And I believe you. Underneath all the complaining and the fighting  
and  
the friendly (and not-so-friendly) insults, you really do care for me.  
I hug you, and smile at you. I haven't believed that of someone  
in a  
very long time. It feels good.  
  
Hey, Ray?  
  
I love you too.  
  
  
THE END  
  
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